She had done it. She had arrived.
A lump formed in her throat as she listened to the final wordsof the presentation: “…a solid revenue model…strategic advertising…scalable for international expansion.”
The speaker paused, scanning the audience before continuing. “And now, I would like to invite one of our judges to present the award to this year’s winner, Priya Solanki. Priya, please join us onstage.”
The room erupted, but Priya could barely move.Get up. Get up. This is your moment.
“Priya,” her father nudged.
From the corner of her eye, Priya caught her mother’s animated gesture, encouraging her to rise.
As Priya stood, the applause grew, rolling through the room like thunder. It sounded like it belonged to someone bigger, someone greater—but it was for her. Each step toward the podium felt surreal, like she was moving through a dream. But the weight in her hands was real when she accepted the award—solid and heavy with meaning. In that moment, Priya felt like she was standing up there not only for herself but for every person who had ever reached for more and refused to let go.
She turned toward the audience, lifting her trophy high. Mumma and Puppa shot to their feet, their cheers cutting through the noise. There were no reserved claps, no subtle nods. They werebeaming, their excitement spilling out, raw and unfiltered.
As Priya’s eyes swept over the crowd, an ache tightened in her chest.
Ethan.
Without him by her side, she felt like a galaxy missing its brightest star. She instinctively reached for the pendant he had given her, and felt a quiet glow burn within her, as if she had a star of her own, shining steadily—hidden yet enduring. It had carried her through the moments when no one was watching,because real growth happened away from the spotlight. In its own time, in its own space.
“Congratulations, Priya,” the judge said. “Please tell us about your app in your own words.”
Priya’s heartbeat was calm now. No hesitation, no second-guessing. She set the trophy down, her fingers lingering over the cool metal for just a second before turning to the audience.
“Thank you,” she said. “While it may seem like I created Moksha, the truth is that, in many ways Moksha created me. Moksha isn’t just the name of this app. It’s also the name of the funeral home that my parents run, the place that shaped my childhood. The word itself comes from the Sanskrit term for liberation or freedom.”
Her voice softened as she continued. “My app is a tribute to the work my parents have done every single day, treating every family, every loss, with the same level of dignity, regardless of wealth, background or…as of late, species.”
Priya waited for the laughter to settle. “Moksha is my way of carrying that legacy forward. It’s about making space for every person’s story, ensuring they get a farewell that truly reflects them. Because no matter how different our lives are, in the end, we all walk through the same door. Death treats us with the same profound equality. When we cross that threshold, we leave all the labels, all the division behind.”
She took a slow breath. “For me, Moksha is more than an app. It’s a promise to help people navigate something inevitable with dignity, peace, and choice, all from the privacy of their own homes.”
Looking around the auditorium, Priya let herself absorb the moment—the eyes watching her, the energy buzzing around her. “Thank you all for believing in me and making this vision areality.” Lifting her trophy again, she locked eyes with her parents and smiled. “To Moksha!”
“There she is!” Puppa exclaimed when Priya emerged from a whirlwind of cameras and handshakes.
“Our Priya.” Mumma took Priya’s hands in hers. “A shining bacon.”
“Beacon,” Puppa corrected.
Mumma only squeezed Priya’s hands tighter. “You’ve filled our hearts today, beta,” she said, her voice quavering with pride. “Here, feel.” She placed Priya’s hand on her chest. “See how round and puffed up it is—like the perfect rotli.”
Priya chuckled. Mumma’s gesture was more than a moment of pride. It was her way of inviting Priya back into her heart. There was an unspoken rule in the Solanki family. Parents didn’t apologize to kids. They simply pulled the threads tighter after every fray—an extra piece of dessert, a softened tone, a hand pressed over the heart.
Priya wrapped her arms around Mumma and gave her a hug.
“Hello?” Puppa piped up, his voice expectant.
Smiling, Priya pulled him in, too, the hug growing into a tangle of arms and hearts.
“All this…it’s beyond anything we imagined,” he said. “Companies offering you jobs, partnerships, opportunities…”
He stepped back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “I get it now, Priya. All this time, we couldn’t figure out why you kept fighting, why you wouldn’t just do as you were told. But you weren’t meant for the life we imagined. You were meant for something we never dared to reach for ourselves.”
Priya blinked back her tears, the pressure to justify her choices lifting.
Mumma reached for her, squeezing her arm. “We thought we were guiding you, keeping you safe. Even after the divorce, we wanted you to be with someone, so you’d never have to face life alone. But you are strong, Priya. Strong enough to stand on your own.”
